Here I am. November 30th. With more than 15,000 words left to get to the finish line...

Yup, this year is not a win for me. But it's still better than last year where I didn't even start. 

Watching myself struggle to carve out writing time, or even finding writing time and just sitting at the computer looking at nothing and typing nothing, made me feel terribly guilty, especially since  I did walk away from the 3 Day Novel Challenge with over 43,000. If I can write 43,000 words in 3 days, WHAT THE HELL MAN?!?!

So then I started to really think about what made writing a novel in 3 days easier than writing a novel in 30.

Well, I narrowed it down to two reasons.

1st: Time off. Writing is both a solo sport and a team effort. With the 3 Day Novel taking place over a long weekend, it wasn't just necessary for me to take those three days off, but it required my partner to take three days off to pick up the slack that I created. I had to do some pre-noveling preparations like cooking and freezing an abundance of ready-made meals, and getting the whole house clean and laundry done, but then it was in hubby's hands to make sure that everyone ate, was clean, and relatively happy. It meant that any projects that he intended to work on before going back to work had to be put on hold so that I could just sit and write (and have my meals delivered to my perch).

There is no way that I could ask him to take off 30 days. And even though I technically only need a couple of hours each day to pull off 50,000 words in 30, I know first-hand how full his plate is. 

I did NaNoWriMo while doing the teaching program. But back then it was just the two of us and he worked full time in an industry that didn't give homework. Now there's three of us, one of which is a pretty demanding little dude, and while hubby is home evenings and weekends, it doesn't mean that he's done working. Times when I have been able to write for NaNo this year has been when everyone else is in bed. Well, I can only have so many good nights of that. Little one has me up at 2am and around 4:30. Hubby is off to work by 7:00am. And then it's all me until 4:30pm, at which point dinner should be started so that he can eat before having to get some more work done, and somewhere in there we like to be a family. 

When we brought the little one home from the hospital (I mean, he was already three months old by this time,) we decided that we'd schedule home office hours for ourselves so that we could get our own stuff done. That hasn't worked out so well. 

And while I know that pretty much all of the above is just a list of excuses, the point is that I decided that some things weren't worth carving out an hour of writing time for. No, we didn't HAVE to put the tree up this early. No, we didn't HAVE to hangout with friends that weekend. No, we didn't HAVE to have a family outing that day. But I wouldn't trade those things. And sacrificing sleep to make me more miserable the next day doesn't help anyone - it doesn't even motivate me to write. So I'll take my slow-going mornings where my son and I snuggle. I'll use his nap times to throw in a few loads of laundry and maybe get something updated. And I'll give my husband time to sort out his new teaching life - because I know what that's like, and as my maternity leave is coming to an end, I have to say that the mental/emotional exhaustion is just not something that I miss. 

In looking at things this way, I don't feel so bad about not reaching 50,000 words. I don't regret what I did with my time.

2nd: The story. The novel I wrote for 3 Day had been filed away in my head for several years. It just so happened that I was able to fill in a key component that helped bring everything together. So I was pretty familiar with the overall story and my main characters before the challenge even began. 

The novel I started for NaNo is a rather spontaneous idea. Don't get me wrong, I still like the idea, but it hasn't had the same amount of time to simmer. I get distracted by second-guessing the POV's, and trying to balance out how much of this story should be humorous and how much should be heartfelt - and I still don't have an answer to these questions. So the story is much rougher. In many places it has been more forced. And while I can see the ending and think it's masterful, it's the little stops along the way that feel rigid. I'm not even sure if this story should be a 50,000 word novel. I'm not sure if the right characters are telling the story. And so, left with a lot of questions, it's been a struggle to just jump into. 

But I can't complain. I have added to my list of WIP's this year. I have launched myself into different themes, exploring scenes and structures that are new to me. And frankly, writing even one new story a year is a successful year for me, so having two novels and two shorts, plus all of the feedback I've been giving this year to help other writers, I'd say that I've used my time well. Not perfectly, no, but well enough.

So congratulations winners, as well as to those of you who added just a few words to your page. You made something! Finished or not, you did the hardest part - getting started! You've already beat out the millions of people out there who didn't even make it out of the gate this year. 

And if you are one of those still in that gate? It's okay. The year isn't over yet. And besides, 2017 is a great time for a fresh start!

...

Yup, I think that pretty much sums up week 3. 

What began as a day off for birthday fun pretty much turned into a whole week - a whole week of not Nanoing and also not endless birthday fun...

Honestly, I've spent this week fighting with the washing machine that can't decide if it's broken or not. It's like it wants to be broken but when it's about to be fixed it second guesses itself and works again...

I don't think that there are washing machines in my WIP, but if there were, I'm pretty sure it would have just as many confusing characteristics as my real life one...

Week 4 is going to be brutal. Not because of how many words I need to write to catch up - I did do the 3 day novel, remember? But because I've now had this story cooling on the widow sill for far too long. I'm not done with the story. I still think it's cute. And Bram certainly hasn't left me yet! But getting back into that flow won't be easy. 

Here's hoping that all of you have had a better run of luck than I have this past week!

 I don't know what it is about J.K. Rowling's invention of the four Hogwarts houses, but damn if they haven't changed our culture drastically. Even knowing that she intended there to be multiple wizarding schools around the world, and any one of them could conduct themselves quite differently from Hogwarts, worldwide we rally to our Hogwarts colours, our crest, and we feel a fellowship that actually doesn't exist at all. It makes no sense that one silly collection of books would redefine who we are - No, redefine is not the right word... It has allowed us to express who we are, to give some insight to others as to how we may differ from them, and has shown us how to be accepting of others. 

The criticism about the four houses is that they have very broad categorical labels, and as such, as it goes with pretty much every label ever, is frequently boiled down to rudimentary (rude) stereotypes. Slytherins must be evil, Ravenclaws nerds, and Hufflepuffs are where those who aren't anything cool go. Harry Potter is Gryffindor, and therefore everyone wants to be Gryffindor. 

But that isn't true is it? In fact, these stereotypes seem to exist strongest among those who have only had a peripheral exposure to Harry Potter culture. Those who have weighed the virtues of each house, have felt solidarity with at least one of them. Yes, "at least one," because humans are not always so easily fitted into labels. Most people I talk to who have claimed a Hogwarts house, have done do with great scrutiny, but also with great anxiety. Yes, there are those who know 100% where their values, virtues, and life paths fit - but others of us are torn between our capabilities and our goals. Or, in other words, between who we are and who we are striving to be. 

I take myself for example. In any well-thought out sorting quiz (as oppose to the ones that simply ask you your favourite animal and colour so that you are practically hand-picking your house anyways), I have always been tied, not a dead tie, but with a one point difference between two houses that flip back and forth depending on the day or questions asked. Those two houses? Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. And given what these two houses represent, I really can't argue. I can see almost all moments of my life as being characteristically driven by each of these two houses. I have a certain stubborn perfectionism, education had been my leading value for most of my life*(which gets more complicated if you dig down deep enough), and, yes, for my upper years I was that student who cried at the horrific failure of a "B". But I haven't always been like this. I began Hufflepuff. I struggled with school life, home life, and if you've been following along with anything I've ever said/posted about myself, you'll know that I'm more likely to hold back than to step forward. Even in my most confident years, leading with confidence outwardly has been a learned skill. But what hasn't changed has been my relentless need to protect people, to please people - or at least to not disappoint them. And as I've been feeling more secure in my adult body, I'm realizing that all of those "Ravenclaw" attributes do come down to what I value most. 

Any ambition I have or have had has not always been 100% for myself. There has been someone to please, maybe even someone to prove wrong, someone to impress, someone to set a good example for. And here I am now, hours away from my birthday, looking back at a year that I can honestly say that I have worked my life putting together. My dedication to my future, though perhaps a Slytherin quality (which wouldn't be unusual since it's my 3rd highest trait, and the fact that both my parents are 100% Slytherin tell me that it isn't surprising that some of it should rub off on me), has always been about this - family. To somehow make right the instability of my childhood by creating a better one moving forward. 

My son will be a year old in one month and one week. He was planned. He was wanted. And it has all come down to him, to making things right for him that couldn't be made right for me.

And so, imagining myself sitting beneath the sorting hat, knowing that even Pottermore thinks that I belong in Ravenclaw house, I know what my heart says. And while I'm studious, and enjoy my studies, and would probably thrive with mentors who could lead me to discoveries and successes that I cannot fathom, I know that I would cave with that kind of pressure. I enjoy a little competition, yes, but I'm not one who needs to be the best. I'm not one who could put everything else on hold to follow a big dream. I am a Hufflepuff. I will always assume that others are more knowledgeable, more talented, and more destined for greatness than I am. And thus I don't think that I would achieve much in Ravenclaw house, always being self-conscious that others are cleverer than me, probably finding a secondary place to sleep because unless I was 100% sure that I knew the password riddle, I probably wouldn't even try for fear of disappointing those around me. 

But as a Hufflepuff --

As a Hufflepuff I could rule the friggin' world!

As a Hufflepuff all of that timidness, that insecurity that holds me back would seem so small. Because in Hufflepuff house, people don't compare you to the biggest and best, they encourage you to do you, to do your biggest and best, to do what you need to to feel valued, because only when we have faith in ourselves, can we really move mountains. Rather than be crippled by my own self-doubt, I could move with confidence, and then in turn, feel confident in helping others find their confidence too. This is the life I led in England, and if you've read anything about my life in the castle, you know how much that time meant to me. But it wasn't just because of what I got to do, or see, or study. It was because for the first time in real life, I felt that I was the best version of me. I made friends with 1st years who were nervous about university life, I brought forward ideas to help shape our year at school, I volunteered in the village, and I turned in the best darn essays! What made this year so different? Because I went into it without any pressure. I had already graduated with my Undergrad degree. I wasn't the oldest student, but I was the only one beyond a 3rd year standing. The courses I took didn't matter, the grades didn't matter, I didn't need pre-req's, I had nothing I needed to fulfill. So I took what I liked, and loved it. I did my assignments with passion and not just to complete them.

This is my element, this is where I thrive, and this is where I am the best person to those around me.

In the film The Bucket List, they say that there are only two questions that you are asked at heaven's gate, one is "Did you have joy in your life?" The second is, "Did your life bring joy to others?" Well, as a Hufflepuff, my answer is yes. 

I am proud of being a Hufflepuff. I feel powerful as a Hufflepuff - not "better" than anyone, just my best self. 

​I feel such confidence in who I am as a Hufflepuff, I feel solidairty in it. So much so that I have even added a number of yellow garments to my wardrobe, which for someone with the complexion I do (thank you Scottish forefathers!) is a very bold move. 

I can laugh at this, and feel not one ounce of shame or self-consciousness. In fact, it's one of my favourites!

And I think that's a Hufflepuff trait. We don't mind a little self-humiliation (controlled by ourselves, of course) if it helps to ease tension or break the ice. I've been a bit silly as a way of winning friends, because my only other option in my programming is to hide in a corner and hope that no one wants to start a conversation, because then the pressure is on for me to have an equal handle on where that conversation will lead. 

I only wish that announcing your Hogwarts house was a fully socially acceptable way to engage in conversation. "Hi, I'm a Hufflepuff!" "Cool, I'm a Gryffindor!" "Yay friends!"

To get back to that idea of rivalries among houses, a little competition is healthy, working as a team, setting individual goals, are all important. But being in any house does not eliminate relationships with other houses, because, at the end of the day, we share the bond of Hogwarts, and that's a freaking strong bond! One that I hope continues on for generations to come.

At least it's one that I will try to share with my son, who I hope will feel confident in leading his life in whatever form that may take. At the moment, my money is on Slytherin. Some wonderful, loving people are from Slytherin house, and as Harry said to Albus Severus Potter, "then Slytherin house will have gained an excellent student." He does still have 10 years to change his mind, and whatever he chooses will be fine too. After all, I was supposed to be in Ravenclaw... sometimes you just know what's right.

If you're wondering what inspired the random Potter post, I'll leave the culprit video down below. I haven't seen the new movie yet, but you can bet that I'll be seeing it with my boy!

So this week has been filled with ups and downs. From motivation to actual time availability, this week has been all over the place. I just wish that I could say the same for this story. 3 straight days were spent forcing my way through this one scene. And yes, "forced" is the right word. So much so that I was debating chucking the scene entirely. The whole point of it was just for a gag moment anyways, so trying to give it purpose was like trying to clean a car with a dishwasher... not a natural fit.

I got through it, and actually put some important plot dialogue in it and move on to another scene that I just loved! I'm still not totally happy with the problem scene, and I may end up taking it out entirely in the final draft - the gag isn't that mind blowing anyway.

Just being able to move forward is such a load-off. And being happy about the last scene I wrote is the confidence boost that I need going into week 3.

Despite all of the ups and downs, I haven't let it keep down for too long. Back on track! Ready to go!

Doing NaNoWriMo with an under 1 year old isn't the easiest thing. But I'm doing better this year than on full-time teaching contracts. One kid 24/7 may be a lot of hands on, but not having to create a paper trail for every interaction with him actually allows me to enjoy some time at home - trust me, just ask my husband what I'm like at home while preparing interim report cards...

Preferably I'd like to get ahead by a couple of days - just because I want to actually finish this story in November regardless of where 50,000 gets me. And having a little cushion each day does wonders for my author ego.

Best of luck fellow writers! Hang in there! We're almost half way!

Despite not being American, I stayed up watching the election map until the 270 was reached. I'm not going to get into a political rant about this. My thoughts, feelings, and solidarity with friends have been expressed elsewhere in these past 24 hours. 

What I find interesting, and defeating, is how irrelevant I find myself feeling. I wrote a post what seems forever ago now about the anger I felt over some people's blatant lack of compassion around the time of the Brexit vote. And once again I think that's what hurts most. It's not about who won. It's about the "in your face" "get over your feelings" mania. It makes the only thing I have to offer, hugs and a genuine "there there, it'll be alright," seem inadequate. And this inadequacy has me sitting in front of my computer now, 9 days into NaNoWriMo, working on a tongue-in-cheek bit of silliness, and I can't even open the document. 

Art must always prevail. It's the embodiment of human emotion, experience, and truth. And yet, what I set out to create feels so irrelevant, verging on insensitive. A little voice in my head is crying for the small fragments of activist in me to do something meaningful. But I think that's the problem. Among my own shock, tiredness from being up so late worrying about the results, and being hit with tidal wave after tidal wave of emotion from friends, strangers, celebrities, etc, I feel like a little void vacuum of meaningless.

What can I say? I am a people pleaser at heart, provided that I carry some respect for those people. I feel a need to fix this. Not even entirely sure what "this" is. I just want to be part of healing the hurt, quelling the anxieties, and yet here I sit, and, despite writing these words presently, I still feel like all I'm doing is sitting here staring at a blank screen. 

I know that this will pass. The worldwide shock will subside, and as all I can hope for, peacefully. It's not about "getting over" our feelings, it's about working through why they are so strong in the first place. I had my own revelation around the time of the Trump "pussy" comment. It was when the world was begging women to speak out about their own experiences with sexual assault, to bring us out from a shroud of shame and to help deniers see that these aren't rare isolated events. And I sat there, stunned in front of my computer, not having the heart to share my first encounter because I could not overcome the guilt of making someone who was involved feel responsible for the decisions they made leading up to the event, after it, and the justifications as to why is wasn't a big deal. And when I realized that that was the only reason I couldn't bring myself to say anything, because I was still, even now, the child needing to protect the adult as opposed to the way that these things are actually supposed to be, and that I have, for over 25 years, been carrying around that justification that it was better to dismiss that anything happened lest others feel embarrassed by it, I finally had the courage to end my duty to cater to the feelings of those who couldn't do the same for me when I needed it most, because of what it would cost their image.

I think that's why I sit here lost in silence now. It's where I'm so used to being. Don't say anything that might upset someone. Don't do anything that might make us look bad. Well, I'm getting stronger. And I feel like I am getting closer and closer to standing my own ground. My inner battle now is about where the line is drawn between open honesty and public shaming. 

I'm trying to be less silent. But it's a hard balance to maintain when that's been my default setting for so long. I'm starting with drawing more lines. I don't need to appease people I don't respect, and I shouldn't have to force myself to respect someone simply because it's expected of me. 

There was an article written a while ago about a woman who experienced the harassment and digital sexual assault while playing a VR video game. When the developers read her statement, they immediately took action to find a way to protect all people who would otherwise be powerless and forced out of these environments for the sake of their own self-preservation. And the way they have chosen to explore this is through a "power stance", a way that a player can instantly stand their ground and eliminate unwanted interactions without having to "report" or "complain", giving them active control over themselves and not simply making them crawl away to the sidelines as a victim needing to justify their victimization. You can read about it here.

This is what I want to find a way to accomplish for myself. The Power Stance. Not having to justify why I feel victimized, simply taking control of the environment that I choose to be in. And to start, I began with the one environment I had left as a more neutral ground, my personal Facebook page. Always second guessing if I really want to make a statement that bold, or that truthful. Censoring what I say, what I think, and in some cases, where I travel to because I have managed to keep my real world life pretty void of the drama I was forced to endure as a minor. And when I realized that I was only doing it to protect the "dignity" of someone who clearly doesn't have any integrity of their own, living only to impress the flavour of the week, and to preserve the story that they present about what a good parent they are, I finally called her out on it. And I freed myself from my own censorship. I ended the arbitrary Facebook friendship and finally felt free in my own space. I had done the same thing in real life, setting limits on when, how, and how long any in person interactions go. And then when it came to my wedding day, I caved in again, feeling guilt that as her only child I would be denying her one and only chance to be a part of something so special. So I laid out a very conditional invitation - one that was tested a few times - and I had people I love and trust on stand-by, waiting to see if the mother-of-the-bride was going to go off-the-wall defensive, passive-aggressive, or basically do anything that would possibly ruin the day. And while a few instances of unnecessary commentary were brought to my attention after the fact, for the most part we survived the obligation of having her present. 

Well, I gave in again. Having her only grandchild, I gave up my month of sweet freedom on Facebook, allowing her to see some footage of her grandson that everyone else in the family has access to. And so far, my need to scream at the computer screen has diminished. Now I don't know for a fact if she's reduced her show-off online behaviour, or if she's put me on a restricted list, but either way, I now know that I am not afraid to defend my space. And while I did contemplate (for months actually), whether I was going to put her on the restricted list so that she could maintain her image of friendship to her friends, I decided that I have no obligation to maintain the facades that she creates for her acquaintances. I don't have to pretend to be someone's "friend" just to make them feel better about themselves, especially when it's just to allow them to continue to deny their own actions.

Well, I've come this far, so let's have it out, shall we?


I was 11 years old. I warned my mother that her boyfriend kept trying to get his hand down my shirt. She dismissed it as him not meaning anything by it - after all, I moved away to prevent anything from "happening". Even being in tears telling her how uncomfortable I was, she acknowledged that I felt uncomfortable, but she wasn't about to screw up a good thing just because her daughter felt "weirded out". This wasn't a long term boyfriend, mind you. He wasn't supporting us. He was a friend-with-benefits who was able to pop in and out as my mother found herself between other relationships. But we were visiting him at the time, staying with him at the other end of the province, so I was pretty much stuck where I was.

Fast-forward just 24 hours. My mother went to bed after watching a movie (something that ended up being more pornographic than she had intended, but was pretty lax about me witnessing anything sexual - probably explains why I'm a bit of a prude now.) Well, it was late, my "bed" was the couch, and there was only one, so I couldn't really go to bed until everyone left. Everyone at this point, of course being the boyfriend. But he didn't feel like leaving.

I won't go into the rest of it. No, I wasn't raped, but he did expose himself and grabbed me, because apparently 11 years old is a good time to learn what to do with it. I fought. I got out of his grasp. But I was 11, in a strange city, with no where to go. And as I said before, my default is to remain silent.

He went to bed, and I was alone until he went to work the next morning. That's when I told my mother. She listened, and she took notes, about what I'm not sure. I don't know if she was writing out her thoughts, the facts, or was at that moment creating the story that she would tell herself.

Either way, I was told that it wasn't his fault. He had been drinking, a lot - probably also why I don't drink at all. I was also told that it was a good thing that I didn't do something stupid like calling the police, because "nothing happened anyway."

Months later, after a few other relationships to occupy her, said friend-with-benefits came to our house for a visit. I was given explicit instructions not to be rude, or bring up the past incident, or do anything that would embarrass him. If I felt so inclined, I could lock myself in my room for the duration of his stay. Trust me, at night I did.

This is what I have been protecting. Well, consider this my power stance.
​ 
“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me!” - Jim Henson, Labyrinth

This is my space. I do not need to justify my pain, fear, anger, or anxiety, your job as a human being is simply to acknowledge that I have these feelings, accept that you don't always know the whole story, and it's my choice to choose to share it. 

Well, it wasn't in time for the election. And it probably wouldn't have mattered anyways, we're not American. But please, everyone, accept my sentiments about your feelings as genuine. My hug, in person or in digital space, is heart-felt, and rather than feel inadequate, I will work towards perfecting my power stance, even if I might need your help to do so, and I promise to help you with yours to.

So the peer-pressure is on to venture over to Medium. 

I like my own personal space over here so I certainly won't be abandoning this, and I know that I won't have it in me to customize new mind-blowing content for separate blogs. So here's where I ask my audience: Would it be worth it if all my Medium posts just end up being highlights from this blog?

The only purpose for Medium is larger audience engagement and conversation. So a post like this one I'm making now wouldn't make it up there - I'd like to keep my everyday thoughts here on my personal page. But I think that some of my bigger observations might be worthwhile. It's just the task of balancing yet another social media platform. I know many writers who use blogging as a step towards paid article writing, and Medium attracts the audience to achieve that. But I don't view what I put here as "article writing". Just the haphazard thoughts of a another wanderer of the world. 

Basically my question is "To Medium or Not to Medium?" 

Okay, so it's not the end of Week One, and, yes, I am supposed to be writing. It is Double-Up Day after all, but it's been bothering me that I haven't said a word about what's on my NaNo plate this year!

I hardly wrote anything on day one. Just a couple hundred words. Which made my 2000 words on day 2 still look measley. Finally caught up on day 3, and narrowly got in the daily goal on day 4.

It makes me feel wimpy since I nearly wrote 50,000 words in three days just a few months ago. But there was a major difference about those 3 days compared to these 30... I had reached an agreement with my husband that he was responsible for all aspects of adulthood while I sat in front of my computer for 3 days. I can't quite make the same arrangement over 30 days. He actually has out of the house obligations, so that puts baby duty pretty much 95% on me. Yes, he still must handle at least 5% even on his busiest days because them's the rules!

Anyways, my NaNo story! It was a great Halloween theme, which is seeming less fitting now that Halloween is over. A tongue-in-cheek parody on fairytales, focused on witch hunting, staring a man who has spent the last 200 years enslaved as a witch's familiar; during which time he happened to fall in love with the familiar of a rival witch. Now that his witch has been slayed by the need-no-prince Princess, he is finally free(-ish) to find his lady love... if he can free her first. And if he can survive he wrath of the Princess who partially blames him for the attempted murder of her and her family as well as the corruption of her father's kingdom, even if he was a familiar bound by magic. 

Lots of silly characters, anachronisms, and a quest for true love!

Anyways, to help with the inspiration, an artist named Kai Austin was asking people for some unusual characters to draw, just to help her scratch her artistic itch, so I offered her my star-crossed lovers. And here they are:
​

I love this. And while most of my writing thus far has been in the realm of "smart-ass," this sketch captures the real heart within the story. It really is about true love, a man's unwavering loyalty to his heart, and his faith in what he feels. 

It's been a bit rockier of a start because I feel that I need so many POV's to do justice to these quirky characters, and I find myself inserting flashbacks that I wasn't planning on, but I think that it's coming together. My struggle I suppose is that I may be trying to cram too much in. But that'll be a discussion for post-first draft.

In the meantime, I will keep at it. 

Best of luck to all of you WriMo's, Rebels, Readers and Dreamers out there!

Here's hoping that we'll all have a great story to share in the new year!

My Halloween inspiration. Note the crows I picked up this year. Great atmosphere for plotting.... Rather empty now that it's all put away for next year. Should have kept at least one crow out of the box as my muse!